


An Inconvenient Convenience

by misreall



Category: Crimson Peak (2015)
Genre: Elevator Sex, Elevatorstuck, F/M, Fondling, Kissing, Married Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Trapped In Elevator, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:42:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25508422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misreall/pseuds/misreall
Summary: Sir Thomas Sharpe and his wife Lady Alice Sharpe find themselves in a predicament during a test run of the new elevators in her father's department store.
Relationships: Thomas Sharpe/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 46
Kudos: 78





	An Inconvenient Convenience

**Author's Note:**

> Part of my summer of 2020 Overused Tropes festival. This time feature Sir Thomas Sharpe and Lady Alice Meadows-Sharpe from my Crimson Peak AU Perfection - https://archiveofourown.org/works/13706409/chapters/31484748

The apparatus halted abruptly and with such force that had she not already been seated upon the comfortable chair attached to the wall, Alice would surely have been thrown from her already unsteady feet. As it was, only her new spring hat was disturbed, falling forward over her right eye.

Even her sure-footed husband Thomas stumbled, his firm grip upon the controlling lever helping him keep upright.

They looked at each other, open-mouthed in surprise, then their gazes went upwards to the decorative, pressed copper ceiling, then down to the intricate parquet floor in a kind of stunned silence. Thomas then gave Alice a concerned look. She raised a lace-covered hand, shaking her head slightly, “I am well.”

“A moment, then,” Thomas said, turned back to the brass lever that was meant to direct the new elevator between the floors of Alice’s father’s flagship department store. With some force, he attempted to move it from where it was stopped betwixt the numbers five where one purchased larger furnishings and six where the gun shop and related outdoor goods were sold. 

It would not budge. With an exasperated look, he informed her that he feared that forcing it would only make matters worse. “I knew that the engineer your father used for this project had an error in his plans, but I could not put my finger to it.”

Alice nodded, folding her hands in her lap. “At least Mr. Otis’s breaking apparatus works as it should, and father  _ did _ take your advice about the installation of a telephone,” she added. “I am only relieved that we persuaded him to let us test the lift before the grand unveiling when the store opens.”

Thomas lifted the receiver of the phone, smiling but a little at her, “The lift? Why Alice, we shall make an Englishwoman of you yet.”

Straightening her hat, Alice returned his little smile with a large one, “I am Midwestern and Chicagoan to my bones, husband. Nothing shall change that. Now see what can be done to rescue us, and tell my father I have a few words for him when we are free.”

“That will surely make him shudder,  _ ma mie _ .”

Oscar Meadows had always adored innovation. His had been amongst the first department stores to install a fire suppressing water system as well as an automated alarm system. Being that the city of Chicago had a well-earned terror fire both purchases had earned him much free advertising and goodwill. 

His Pine Room was not the first restaurant to be found in a shop - Macy’s, or perhaps Wannamaker’s, in New York held that distinction - yet it was the first in the Middle West and was considered one of the most elegant destinations for afternoon tea in the country. Ladies would travel hours by train or, for the very well-heeled, carriage and later automotive, to meet there for tiny sandwiches and ethereal pastries. 

Private charge accounts for good customers, ventilation systems to keep the atmosphere healthy, mannequins walking through the store in the latest fashions, a bookshop in the basement, music piped from the piano department on floor five, a second, more casual restaurant on the roof for those few lovely days of summer where weekly tea dances were held, valet service, registry service for young brides. Meadows had everything.

Yet his particular care was for access. Ease of motion between floors. He harried architects mercilessly for the most comfortable and graceful stairs so that no matter how elaborate a lady’s costume might be, it would show to good effect as she ascended and descended to each floor. With enough room for a comfortable chair or two on a landing between each floor that they might take their rest if need should be.

Later, when he was assured of their reliability and safety he eagerly outlaid at great personal expense to have elevators installed and afterward was forever having them updated and added to, so that they possessed a level of functionality and luxury that seemed peculiar for what was a utilitarian device.

Until one took into account the physical condition of Meadows’ daughter Alice. 

Which was why she was always the first rider on the maiden voyage of each new and hopefully improved elevator. For if Alice was pleased and comfortable then Oscar Meadows was pleased and comforted.

All had always been well on her little journeys until this one, during which she at least had the presence of her doting husband Sir Thomas Sharpe’s presence to distract her. 

After finishing a terse conversation with his father-in-law, who was clearly berating his engineer even before the telephone had rung, Thomas lay on the floor beside Alice’s firmly affixed wall-seat with a sigh, “They were aware of our difficulty, and fear it may be as much as an hour before they can get us moving again.” 

Alice nodded once. Her expression, to another, might seem neutral, but Thomas knew every tiny motion as it crossed her face. From countless hours of contemplating her in the deep silence of her painting, whether as her subject or from being within their shared studio, he knew that she was deeply displeased and perhaps somewhat distressed. 

“There is a smallish hatch in the ceiling that you might easily reach,” she said, pointed a gloved finger upwards. 

“Were we trapped here with no way to communicate our distress I should most certainly do that,” he agreed. “It is to my great fortune that there is no need.”

“If I were-”

There was a small tremor in her voice, and it occurred to Thomas that between the foul memories of Allerdale Hall, and her dislike of confinement, his stoic wife was discomfited by the idea of an extended stay in the lift. Indeed, he found he did not care for it himself, and for much the same reasons.

He stopped her before she could continue, an idea coming to him that made his cock grow heavy. Once he had not cared much for the sex act, though circumstances had forced him to perform it over and over nonetheless, but with his Alice, his desires had grown wild. Or perhaps they had always been wild but had been stifled by those circumstances, and now that they grew in healthy soil they were untamable.

Rather than with the use of words, he reached out to wrap his hand about the ankle of her stronger leg. Though her fashionably narrow skirt was daring in that when standing it was short enough to show where the supple leather of her walking boots showed the curve of the top of her foot, sitting he had to reach under its lightweight wool and brush aside the lace-trimmed silk of her petticoat to reach his goal.

Circling the knob of her ankle-bone with a firm thumb, Thomas tilted his head so he could meet Alice’s mildly scandalized gaze. “Shall we distract ourselves from this current predicament? There are any number of pleasant ways to while away our time…”

“Thomas, really,” she said, looking away from him in a dignified manner. “I can think of no less appropriate or romantic location than this,” she gestured helplessly about their oak-paneled prison.

Yet she did not say no.

Alice could feel Thomas’s hand moving up from where he had teased her ankle. The progress was slow. There was the pressure of his palm moving to the leather upper of her boot, and then to her stockinged calf where he halted his progress, squeezing gently, and then continued. The motion was positively lazy, and quite light now, just a faint drag of his fingertips over the textured silk.

Not certain if it was irritating or soothing, Alice chose to continue to ignore him. Really, her husband was most impossible, not to mention insatiable. Though how even he could find anything erotic in such a place was beyond her, as it was so unpleasantly small and windowless.

Somehow, without her noting his progress, Thomas had inched closer, so now he was directly below her, and his hand was really quite high up her skirt, his long arms making it easy. Indeed he had reached where her stocking ended and was now idly stroking the skin there. Her legs being close together, he was attending equally to both her undamaged leg and her withered limb.

It was unpleasantly small, windowless, and really shockingly warm!

Not to mention there was always the possibility, faint though it might be, that they might finish the repairs more quickly than they thought and the brass doors could open at any time. There was, as if to add emphasis to the thought, a faint sound of banging from somewhere below them, though not near.

And yet…

Alice found her nipples were painfully tight.

Because of his reach, her skirt was raised, allowing Thomas to bend his beautiful, dark head and press a kiss on the top of the boot on her damaged leg, then dragged his tongue up every eyelet. So thin was the leather she could almost feel it as if she wore nothing on her foot at all, using her distraction to insinuate his fingers between her tightly clenched thighs.

The barest tips of his fingers scratched at her undergarment, a scandalous new design from Paris that had very short legs. “Let me in, Alice,” he whispered, pushing her skirt higher still so he could press open mouth kisses on her legs. 

“T-Thomas!” The name shuddered out of her. 

Her cunt was swollen and ready so quickly it ached and prickled and her legs felt lax, falling apart at his words. “Oh, Alice…” Thomas made a t’sking sound, “you are soaked through, my poor love.” Those same fingers now teasingly played over the wet cotton, tracing every curve of her privates, over and over so she fell back, her breath coming quickly, surprised but unable to concentrate on how overcome she felt.

Gripping the hand rests to try and keep herself still did no good. Thomas reached behind her head and took as firm a grip upon her chignon, tenderly forcing her to look at him. His eyes were black with only the faintest hint of the blue she worked so hard to match in her painting, and his thin lips were parted as breath heaved out of him as well. A faint sheen on his brow and flush on his cheeks made her cunt tighten and ache against its emptiness.

The tease of his touch was maddening, and one particular stroke against her clitoris left her back arched and her entire body taut with desire. 

Pressing the heel of his hand there, he moved it in hard circles, “Push yourself against my touch. I can feel you fighting your need. Do not. Show me. Pleasure yourself upon me.”

Now Alice was the one who reached out for him, pulling him close, rubbing her face on his dark curls, burrowing against his neck, whispering, “I need more. I need your cock.”

Then she bit him.

Thomas growled in joy. For her to be vulgar, to use those coarse words, to bite and scratch and draw his blood and to let him set aside his gentlemanly costume and show himself to be feral for her alone, was his chiefest happiness.

The removal of her undergarments might have taken another man a few minutes or more, but for Thomas, it was no work at all to have them away. Staring at the wet, glistening place between her legs, he had his own buttons undone in a trice. His cock was ruddy, thick, and long, standing near to upright in its nest of black, a rivulet of moisture dripping from its rude tip, and it throbbed at the pressure of Alice’s hungry gaze. 

It was fortunate that the chair that had been placed on the elevator for her was narrow and had no arms, so Alice was all but straddling, soaking her petticoats, when Thomas entered her, with a slow, steady glide, their fully clothed bodies pressed together as they sweated through their elegant garments and breathed in each other.

“Alice…” Thomas said against her lips as he kissed her. Their tongues stroked each other as his cock stroked in and out of her, firm and a little faster and a little faster. 

The kiss grew rougher. Thomas used his strong thighs to push up and down on his knees, so each thrust into her ended in a push up so that she was being bounced upon the chair seat, upon his cock, each jolt on her clitoris coming faster, so that the pleasure of it started to run closer and closer together. 

As she came closer and closer. Not able to wrap her legs around him, Alice instead leaned back, breaking the kiss, so she could angle her hips for further contact. 

Thomas’s eyes were hooded. “Shall I rub you off whilst I fuck you, wife?”

He touched between them, at the point of her need.

“Please,” she all but wept.

Firm, lushing, rubbing circles matched the steady, relentless pace of his fucking. 

Alice was certain that the banging noise she had heard earlier was louder and perhaps closer.

“Thomas- Thomas we have to-”

There was a hard lurch as the lift resumed its descent.

Alice’s orgasm sent her hips upwards, engulfing Thomas entirely, the luscious grasp of her cunt wringing a matching pleasure from him.

A concerned Mr. Meadows, an abashed and red-face engineer, and a small crowd of workmen, waited for them in the lobby of the grand department store. Behind them, the staff was preparing for the morning rush that would be starting in fifteen minutes or so, all trying to pretend they were not gawking at the owner’s daughter and her foreign husband.

Another man might have been unable to share in a splendid climax with his wife, then put them both back in order, after cleaning them up with her discarded knickers which he then stuffed down the back of his own pants where the lump would be covered by his overcoat, and then lift her up to carry out so to better hide their still not entirely neat garments, loudly insisting that he needed to take her to the ladies retiring room immediately, whilst Alice hid her laugher against his chest. 

But Thomas was not inexperienced. 

Nor was he about to face down his father-in-law just yet.

“When we return home I expect a repeated action, though with fewer clothes,” Alice said primly, from where she was pressed to his jacket front.

“And a more relaxed aftermath,” he agreed.

  
  
  



End file.
